Faces of Winter
by routavaurio
Summary: Winter is a tricky thing. It can take many forms, some fun and some deadly. Jack contemplates his own season while facing two very different sides of it in just one day.
1. Fun

**I don't own Rise of the Guardians. Also, English is not even related to my first language so if you see any weirdness about the language, please tell me so I can learn. The temperatures mentioned in the story are Celsius (0= water freezes, 100= water boils, 37= normal human body temperature, 21 = comfortable room temperature).**

Fun

The air was crisp and cold and he breathed in deeply. His exhale disappeared into the wind along with laughter and he tilted his body to the side to turn in the chilly air. Wind was tossing him around as easily as it would toss a snowflake, whisking him across the clear skies with speed that would make any mortal at least extremely light-headed. He had crossed the Ural Mountains just a few moments ago, heading towards the western border of Russia on his way across the taiga, which December had left white and freezing. December, along with a generous amount of help from him, that is. He _was _the Spirit of Winter after all. Jack Frost peered down towards the white-dusted forests that occasionally made way to cities and towns and villages that blinked with tacky Christmas lights in anticipation of the season of giving. It would only be two days before North would leave his workshop to deliver his gifts, and Jack could only imagine the strangely controlled chaos that now reigned in the North Pole, a place where he was very much forbidden to go at the moment. He might be a part of the Guardians now, but that didn't mean he had the right to get himself, his mischief and his icy powers on North's way this close to North's very own holiday. It was the first Christmas after _that _Easter after all.

But Jack didn't mind. He had a job to do as well. It had been snowing all night over Russia, and the snowploughs had worked through the early morning to clean up the streets to get the commuters going. And Jack just couldn't resist giving the now clean roads a small dusting of fresh snow. Just a tiny bit to make it look less sterile. And now he was drawn. Drawn towards a town called Volzhsk by the faint sounds of children laughing and squealing in delight. Jack slowed down just a bit and let the wind take him to a few extra rounds over Volzhsk to locate the source. Jack blinked once, twice, icy blue eyes scanning the area and spotting several bunches of colourful winter clothes. He stopped in the air, a gust of wind wrapping around him and keeping him airborne high above the town. His gaze settled for a more quiet-looking group of children and a grin split his face. Children not having fun outside? In a country that experienced so much snowfall that people had practically made dealing with the snow and having fun in it an art, no less. That would not do. Jack flipped in the air before diving down, picking up speed.

He turned right before he hit the ground, landing feet-first and disturbing the freshly fallen powder snow into a billowing cloud that clung to his already frosty hoodie and ancient trousers. His bare feet touched the frozen ground and he let out another laugh and wiped the snowflakes from his face. The local weather reports told the temperature to be a comfortable fifteen degrees below zero. It meant crispy air and crunchy snow. Too cold for snowballs or snowmen, but the snowploughs had left something that was arguably even better. The snow that had been on the nearby roads had been gathered into two huge piles to the side. They sat there like miniature mountains with jagged chunks of ice and powdery snow at the top. There were smoother sides that were just _begging _for someone to use them for sliding. The children were tentatively getting closer to the inviting piles of fun, and Jack could only wonder why they weren't going for it. It was a free playground of nature.

"Hey!" he shouted out loud, not even switching to Russian, even though he spoke it fairly well.

One of the children turned towards the shout. She was dressed in an off-white jacket that was a little too big and was probably a hand-me-down from her brother. Her round face was framed with blonde hair and her green eyes brightened when she looked at Jack. Jack's breath hitched with the unfamiliarity of recognition. It had been less than a year before he had been seen for the first time. Before he had been _believed in_. Jack lifted a hand and smiled again when the girl's face brightened. She shouted for him and tugged on the sleeve of her older brother, who also looked up. The girl's name was Svetlana and everyone called her Sveta. Her brother was Aleksandr and everyone called him Sasha. Jack had taken time to learn the names and faces of all of his new believers that he came across. The believers had started accumulating nicely all over the world – at least in the northern hemisphere – after one young boy in Burgess, USA, had first called his name and seen him... Soon Jack might have so many believers that the names and faces would start blending together and he wouldn't be able to keep track of them all. The thought of thousands, maybe millions of believers was exhilarating but Jack had to admit that the attention of just a few felt more than enough at the moment. It was nice to knowthem all.

The others were slowly turning to see what had got Sveta and Sasha so excited. Jack gave another wave and then, with a mischievous smile he took off running and sped across the thicker snow at the side of the road. It crunched softly under his feet but he barely sunk into it enough to make proper footprints. That was probably for the best, since the kids' parents might start lecturing them about the importance of proper footwear if they spotted the imprints of bare feet on the cold, cold snow. Of course, Jack didn't even feel it; his own body temperature was probably lower than the cold of snow. He ran to the snowdrifts with light steps, taking off into the air and landing on top of one of the piles. Sveta's eyes followed him, and the others also stared. Everyone except Sveta and Sasha were looking through Jack, though, so Jack followed their eyes to see what had caught their attention and prevented them from having fun. It wasn't very hard to spot, really. It was right there, wrapped in a patched black winter coat. It was a boy.

For a moment Jack felt hollow and cold and it had nothing to do with the weather. The boy was still and Jack was almost afraid to get closer. Was the kid hurt? The kid's empty eyes suddenly flared to life and he looked murderously at Jack's direction. Okay, not injured or anything. Just moping. Jack gave him a grin and leaned against his crooked staff, the ancient wood reassuringly cold between his fingers.

"Don't you look depressing," he said.

The boy didn't answer, and Jack realized that that the kid didn't even see him. He had probably just reacted to the cold breeze Jack couldn't help bringing with him wherever he went. Jack shrugged his bony shoulders and tapped his staff against the snow.

Ice spread from the staff and covered the top of the hill. The boy gasped in surprise and jumped to his feet. Jack laughed and took a couple of steps before reaching the edge and speeding to a slide. He dragged his staff behind him and slid down in a twisting, turning path that ended to a small bump he quickly improvised into a ramp. He was tossed into the air and the wind caught him and he flipped once, twice, three times before landing lightly on his feet. He motioned to Sveta, who had finally gathered the courage to scamper to the top of the hill to the moping kid. Sveta's eyes were shining with excitement as she eyed the twisting slide that went all the way down their snowplough-crafted mountain.

"Sveta!" Jack shouted and nodded his head towards the moping kid. Just a little push, and it would all be good. At least for a while.

Sveta looked at Jack and then to the kid. Then she nudged the kid's shoulder and received a murderous glare in return. Sveta stepped back in apprehension, but then she gave a bubbly giggle and pushed the boy down to the icy slide that was so slippery that the boy didn't have time to register anything before he had picked up speed and started shouting almost instinctively out of joy.

The kid's ride ended safely in the soft snow next to Jack's feet, and Jack hit the air with his fist and jumped higher than it was physically possible for normal humans. The mopy kid got up, dusted himself and then looked around, his gaze lingering at the faint traces of extra footprints in the snow. His eyes flickered towards Jack but didn't quite focus. Jack held his breath and readied a few of his joy-inspiring snowflakes in case the kid was still mad. But he wasn't. Jack could recognize the start of a smile playing on the kid's lips.

"Can you see me?" Jack asked before remembering where he was and repeated the question in Russian. The boy didn't answer. Then Sasha came up behind Sveta and pushed her down and that was when a game of King of the Hill started. Laughter and shouts and sounds of fun filled the air in that corner of Volzhsk. The moping kid turned and sprinted across the knee-deep snow back to the hill to join in. And there was happiness bubbling up in Jack's chest, and he sprang up into the air, conjuring up a bunch of wild snowflakes around him that tumbled to the ground and softened the landings of the kids who happened to fall to the less thick snow. The game got rougher and more excited and went on before some of the parents braved the coldness to call the children back inside for lunch. The children reluctantly obliged, everyone a bit bruised and with red runny noses but undeniably happy. Even the moping kid – who Jack guessed from the other kids' shouts was called Misha – ran inside after casting a glance to Jack's direction and for a moment Jack wondered if the sudden surge of power he felt somewhere in his chest was because of that or just because someone else somewhere had started believing. Sveta and Sasha waved at him and Jack waved back with a smile that was so wide it almost hurt.

"_Do svidaniya!"_ he yelled after the kids in accented Russian and then he was off again, wishing he could stay for longer. But Christmastime was busy for Jack Frost as well. People seemed to really like white Christmases especially in the north, and Jack was happy to oblige, especially now that he was _seen_. Believed in. It was going to the first Christmas when he wouldn't be alone. Being actually recognized for one's work was a fantastic motivational boost.

Jack even had a plan of action. Really. He would fly over the rest of Russia, stirring up a small blizzard over St. Petersburg – those fancy museums looked like cakes and were just begging for some icing – and then heading for the Nordics. The fjords in Norway were especially nice when contrasting with a good dusting of snow. Heck, maybe he would have a small break somewhere in Vatnajökull. It was very nice this time of the year. Then he would head over the Atlantic to Canada and then over the northern parts of the States and be sneaking a peek to North's workshop by the late evening. Of course, he might be slightly off the schedule if he was again distracted by fun. But fun was a perfectly acceptable distraction, right? He was the Guardian of it, after all.

Jack had to admit that he had a special fondness for the countries at the areas of the boreal forest. Sure, the southern hemisphere had its merits, definitely. And Jack was every now and then eager to brave the warmer climate to see the more southern countries. But the good snowy winter in the south was mostly restricted to the mountains with less people. The people in the north had lived with snow all their lives and they really did know how to have fun in winter. It was also always a good place to go to if Jack wanted an actual challenge with closing down schools. The people there were skiing, skating, running, sledding, playing football in waist-deep snow, even swimming in frozen lakes – that last part being something Jack could never, _ever_ understand. All those different winter sports that drove kids and adults alike outside to brave the cold even with the iPods and iPhones and iWhatevers taking up an unnecessary amount of their time. And of course, when doing his rounds around the northern world he could always swerve to Burgess to see Jamie and the others, his first believers, and give them a good snow day or two.

Jack was distracted from his merry thoughts when he felt the weather getting steadily warmer. Well, warmer compared to the areas he had previously flown through. It was getting closer to zero. That meant wet snow that could be moulded to snowballs. A fun distraction. He could definitely accept that. He shot down to the nearest group of children to give them a good old snowball fight. Soon he felt the happiness of spreading fun bubbling up again.

Winter could take so many forms of fun. And Jack Frost loved his work because of it.


	2. Death

**I still don't own RotG. Prepositions still confuse me and feedback is still very much appreciated.**

Death

As proud as Jack had been of his private schedule, it didn't take long before his next slip. He had reached a more freezing climate again and was flying over a meandering road. Frosty pine trees lined the road on both sides, and the fallen snow blended with the white sky somewhere in the horizon. A lonely car that looked more like a beetle from Jack's current altitude was making its way along the bends. The road was silvery grey from the ice covering it, but the driver seemed to know how to work with it. Jack swooped down just because he felt like it and sped along the road to the side of the car, easily keeping up even when he was lounging in the wind. The rear window instantly frosted over when he got too close, but Jack wiped it clean with his sleeve, cold blue cotton leaving streaks at its wake. The man driving the car didn't even notice, his mind too fixed on driving. Jack made sure to keep it that way and zoomed past the man, racing the car through the snowy forest road. The driver had no idea of his invisible competition, but he stepped on the gas after the worst of the bends were done with.

"Really, now?" Jack said out loud, knowing the driver wouldn't hear, "Challenge accepted, old man!"

He knew he could easily outrun – or fly – the car. But where would the fun be in that? Jack picked up speed, now flying above the car roof and letting the wind spin him around. It tousled his frosty white hair and tugged at his clothes. Jack let it take him even faster and reached the next sharp bend ahead of the lonely car.

Then it all went wrong.

Jack heard the ear-splitting whine of brakes that did nothing and spun around to see the car swerving into a dangerous spin on the slippery road. He caught a glimpse of the driver's panicked face as the man tried his best to keep the car from the trees that grew at the sides of the road. The screeching stopped – at least the man had been smart enough to let go of the brakes – but it was followed with a terrible _thunk _and the car was jostled over the hardened snowy edges of the road and it went down the steep, slippery slope hidden under the treacherous snow.

Sounds of metal hitting hard ground filled the air. Jack was moving before he even realized it. He landed into the snow in the car's way and brought his staff before him, ready to create an icy slope to guide the car clear of the trees and bring it to a gentler stop...

There was a bump somewhere in the ground that sent the car spinning onto its roof and right into Jack. It hit him like a wall and he was sent flying, the impact rattling his ribs and emptying his lungs in one startled shout. Jack hit the trunk of an old pine tree and bounced back onto the snow, landing on his back and gasping for air. He clutched his staff like a lifeline, taking comfort for a second in the knowledge that at least the staff wasn't broken. His back was hurting like hell and his chest burned and he was dimly aware that had he been a mere mortal his lungs would now be full of broken ribs. He coughed and inhaled loose snow that sent him into another fit. He fought it down and gritted his teeth. It was just a little bit of excruciating pain; he could handle it. It was not like he could die just like that. He didn't have time to worry about himself. There was a man who needed help. Jack forced himself onto shaky feet, leaning on his staff and looking around. It took a while for his head to stop spinning and his vision to adjust, but as soon as he was feeling better his eyes fell on the wreckage of the car. It had slid to a stop on its roof a bit further down, leaning to a tree and looking more like a crushed soda can than a vehicle.

"No..." Jack wheezed out and stumbled to the car, all of his usual grace gone, "No, no, nonononono..."

He fell to his hands and knees to peer into the car. The man was in there, upside down, bleeding and broken, fighting to draw in wheezing breaths. The car had thankfully not flattened the man on the spot, but it did seem to hamper his breathing. Jack choked on his own breaths and pushed his shoulder against the car in what he knew was a failed attempt to give the man some room. The car didn't budge. Jack might have been powerful, but he still had the physical form of an undernourished teenager. In physical strength he was definitely no match for a three-ton car. He gave up and changed his plan. He stabbed the ground with his staff, huge icicles growing from the snow and pushing the car up just a bit. The man groaned in pain but didn't move.

"Come _on_!" Jack said through gritted teeth, "Get out of there! Move! Something!"

He knew there was nothing he could do. He was invisible, intangible to the man and all the other adults that could help him. Moving the car more without any other way of helping the man would just make it worse. In fact, with the cold Jack was radiating just being this close to the man would make it worse. Jack let out a frustrated shout and shot straight up to the sky like a rocket, zipping a few rounds over the scene of the accident to calm himself down and then landed on top of a high tree branch and perched there, still and waiting. The wind wrapped him into a comforting embrace, but Jack barely noticed. It was all too wrong... It was his fault. He should have done something more. He wanted to start beating himself mentally for the whole thing, but at the same time he knew it would be no good. And he knew it _hadn't_ been fully his fault. He had been careful. He had done nothing to the man. Things just happened. The people here should know. They knew winter could be a deadly weapon. The people here knew winter. But there was nothing they – or even Jack – could do about its ruthlessness.

Jack had seen the many ways winter could claim lives. Accidents, avalanches... icebergs in the water... people freezing to death... falling through thin ice... Children burrowing into the snow, having fun while digging tunnels, laughing seconds before the tunnels caved in... People crushed under falling piles of snow... Winter was a tricky thing. Jack knew it better than anyone. Although it wasn't all him, really. Mother Nature had a hand in it too, and she wasn't always friendly. But Jack for his part always took care not to get anyone hurt – a few bruises and lost teeth didn't really count – while he was playing. But he couldn't watch everyone. And too much fun could always end in tears.

Jack didn't move from his perch before he saw a car whose driver was kind enough to see the swerving skidmarks in the snow and stopped to help. It hadn't taken more than fifteen minutes, fortunately enough, but for Jack it had felt like a painfully long time. Two young men stepped out of the car, one pulling out a phone and dialling the emergency number. The other one went up to the car, paused for a second to stare at the icicles holding it up before reaching in to talk to the man. There was no response, but Jack could guess that the man in the car was still alive, since the two younger ones started working on getting him out. The man's bloodied, trembling form was laid out into the snow and Jack bit his lip so hard it almost started bleeding. Broken bones and a concussion, most likely hypothermia, and Jack didn't even dare to think what else. Slowly, Jack left his spot and floated closer. The two young men had been doing well so far, but now they seemed to be at loss. One of them took off his winter coat and put it over the trembling man.

"That's good", Jack said mostly to himself, "Don't move him any more. It looks like he's pretty... broken."

He looked at the broken man's face. He wasn't that old, maybe in his forties. His face was weather-beaten and his hair cut short, now sticky with blood that had flowed from a wound in his temple. One of the young men fished out the victim's wallet and checked the insides. Jack could get a glimpse of a small photo sticker of a little boy and he shut his eyes and took a deep, shaking breath.

Jack knew winter. He _was_ winter. He knew his powers had two sides. Fun and death. It was the time of rest, but also the time of hardship. It was beautiful yet treacherous. He knew it was just a part of the natural order of things. He had seen this all before. He had seen people dying. And he knew he couldn't start blaming himself for every single slip people took. Life just had to move on. But it still hurt. It hurt _so much_.

Jack took another deep breath and spared one more glance at the man and hoped with all his heart that the man would make it. He had seen people make it. They could be patched up in the hospitals and be all right. Frozen people could be thawed if they were lucky. Or unlucky. Jack wasn't sure. He had once watched a frozen man thawing. The poor guy had writhed in pain and Jack could imagine that it felt like being burned alive. Of course he would never know for sure. When Jack had frozen, he had never thawed.

It took too long before the ambulance reached them. The younger men were trembling from the cold by then, and the man on the ground had stopped bleeding, the cold freezing his blood. Jack stood still in the snow when the paramedics lifted the man into the ambulance. He kept telling himself that the man was still alive. Otherwise they wouldn't bother hurrying.

He didn't follow when the ambulance sped away. He might go see the man later. Jack could easily guess that the ambulance came from Vyborg. It was the closest town with a hospital. He would find the man from the hospital and see if he would make it. But now there was nothing he could do. He watched the ambulance disappearing around the bend and turned then to look at the blood on the snow with clouded eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Winter could take so many forms of death. And sometimes Jack hated himself for it.

**Author's Note: I think I was listening to Finnish Christmas songs while writing this (and for those who don't know, Finnish Christmas songs are mostly about death). Fun fact: here in Finland, it's part of the driving school to practice losing control of your car on an icy track and then dealing with it. It was very scary. Good thing they make winter tyres for bikes! This has really nothing to do with this ****story, considering it takes place in Russia. Anyway...**

**I went to see RotG today again. This time in 3D and in Finnish. Surprisingly, I actually preferred the Finnish dub in many ways. Not that the English one was bad by any means. But Jon-Jon Geitel was just too perfect as Pakkasukko (Jack's Finnish name)!**

**I name-dropped Mother Nature in this one. She actually is a character in the Guardians of Childhood -books (which are very good children's books by the way. I like them even more than I like the film!) and she is stated not to be always friendly. She also clearly has quite a lot of control over weather. I could spoil more about her but I won't.**

**Oh, yeah, and GothicJewel asked about Jack speaking Russian... well, I don't know if he does in canon, but it would make sense to me if he did. Russia is a very big, and a very cold country so Jack would hang out there quite a lot I think. So he would be exposed to the language enough to want to learn it at least passably. And he has had 300 years to learn it.**


	3. Faces

**I still don't own RotG.**

Faces

It was getting dark. Well, to be fair, the sun had barely taken a peek over the horizon during the whole day this close to the Arctic Circle. It was nearly Christmas after all, the time of polar nights in the north. Jack was feeling exhausted, so he had ditched his schedule altogether and after reaching Iceland he had let the wind drop him into a snowdrift somewhere in the middle of Vatnajökull. He lay there on his back, staring with unseeing eyes into the darkening sky and focusing on breathing deeply and calming himself down. He was still sore from the abrupt meeting with the car, but he knew there wouldn't be any lasting injury. For him. The poor guy who had been on the driver's seat was doing far worse. Jack hadn't checked the man's condition after the ambulance took him away. He had figured the people treating the man at the hospital would be better off without an icy gust of wind sweeping through their corridors or sudden coldness frosting over their windows. So he had fled and vented his sorrow by causing a few atrociously aimed and badly controlled blizzards over Finland. And now he just wanted to cool down and rest.

Jack didn't get tired easily. He usually felt like he had an unlimited amount of energy. According to Bunnymund, he had_ too_ much energy, especially when it came to pranks and snarkiness. When Jack got tired it was usually because he felt emotionally drained or simply because he had overused his powers. In this case it was kind of both. So it was a very necessary break. Besides, winter was also supposed to be a time of resting. Surely winter itself could rest as well every once in a while.

The day had started so perfectly. Snowballs and fun times for everyone. The happiness, the strength that had flooded his heart when children had laughed and smiled and had fun and _believed_. Why did it all have to go so wrong all of a sudden? Why did winter have to have such extreme sides to it? Jack loved his season, he really did. But why did things have to be so difficult? Jack had been thinking about all of this before, naturally. When one was all but alone for three centuries, one had a lot of time to think. But even after all these years, Jack couldn't just let it go. He still couldn't stop feeling awful when things went wrong and people got hurt. He supposed it was a good thing. If he stopped feeling bad about it, he would be going frighteningly far down the road that led towards Pitch Black.

Jack closed his eyes and brought his staff against his aching chest for comfort. He felt the gently falling snow landing on his face. The snowflakes didn't melt when they came in contact with his skin, but just gathered onto his eyelashes and cheeks and soothed him to a more relaxed state. He wanted to sleep, but he knew he couldn't. Not yet. Scheduled or not, the whole Northern Canada was begging for more snow. He should be working even now. But he was just too tired. So he lay still until he was almost entirely covered in snow. The wind was sweeping the lightest snow from the tops of the drifts, causing a calming hiss to echo across the glacier. The wind touched Jack's forehead and brushed his hair. It wiped the excess snowflakes from his eyes and Jack reluctantly sat up, rubbing his face with his hands and blinking dazedly into the darkness. The Moon was bright and Jack cast an amiable look at it before getting back up. He hopped back on top of the snow that barely gave in under his feet.

"Okay, okay, I'll be going, Wind," Jack mumbled when the wind nudged his back, "I _wasn't_ sleeping. I was just thinking."

He was still thinking. He was thinking about his winter that was fun and cruel and that had so many faces. It was a crisp and white morning after a cold, freezing night. It was children having epic snowball fights and laughing. And some other times it was adults using the cold and the snow as weapons in real wars. It was a fierce, roaring blizzard. It was a calming cradle for hibernating animals. It was a time that robbed living things of most of their food and forced them to survive in harsher conditions. But it also protected the earth with snow. It was beautiful with its snowflakes and frost flowers, each a unique work of art...

So many faces...

The wind nudged Jack's shoulder again, this time more out of concern than haste. Jack wasn't feeling that great yet, but at least he wasn't hurting quite so badly any more either. He carefully felt his sides. Bruises, but they would fade in no time. He really had no excuse for not continuing his work. Jack was about to take off before another thought stopped him. He had never really thought about it before, because he had just been focused on getting someone to see him. But now... with more and more children believing in him... Children had _heard _of Jack Frost or some other winter spirit before, maybe even imagined something behind their snow days or someone nipping their noses. Imagining, but not quite believing... There had been different depictions of him, some fearsome and some ridiculous, none quite right. But for those who believed in him now, for Jamie and Monty and Pippa and Cupcake... for Sveta and Sasha... for everyone... winter _had a face_.

A physical face.

Jack sat back down, crossing his legs. He carefully smoothed a rough rectangle into the snow and then breathed into it, watching a layer of ice spreading onto the ground. He wiped the ice clean from falling snow and breathed again, making the ice smoother and applying his winter magic until the patch was almost impossibly clear and reflected moonlight. He peered into the makeshift mirror.

Jack had seen his reflection before, of course. He knew what he looked like. But he had never really thought about it much or cared about his appearance. After all, what did it matter when no one could see you? But now he actually _looked_, and a very pale child looked back. And... Jack had to admit that it wasn't what _he _would imagine the true face of winter looking like. He would imagine something much more formidable, something older and much more awesome. Jack was just a boy who carried around a stick. If his hair hadn't been white and perpetually frosted into an icy mess he would have looked just like any other teenager. A sickly, small, homeless teenager, who had walked through a blizzard and barely survived. Or more accurately, _hadn't _survived. Almost unconsciously Jack clutched his staff a bit tighter and brought his free hand to his chest. He knew he had a pulse, even if it was a bit sluggish. So he had to be alive – maybe – even though he had died in that lake over three hundred years ago. He certainly wouldn't look out of place among corpses, though. He was so pale and there were dark shadows around his eyes and a bluish tint to his lips. Well, at least his eyes were lively and bright. Too bright and too blue to belong to a human.

His reflection was clearly getting depressed at these thoughts. Jack tried to lighten things up with a smile. Despite not feeling that cheerful, he managed his normal carefree and mischievous grin. Well, winter was treacherous in many ways. Maybe it was fitting that Jack looked so unimpressive. It was better than looking too scary. Although his powers certainly could be frightening and deadly if there was a need for that. But in the end he was a friendly being. What he did best was making people have fun and laugh, even if the situation they were in wasn't anything to laugh about. Despite all the sadness and depression he had endured during his three hundred years of near isolation and confusion, he had managed to stay happy enough to bring happiness to others. He radiated cold and breathed ice, but he had a warm smile. And the beauty-thing? Well, Toothiana's mini fairies seemed to swoon at the sight of him, but otherwise... well, Jack could let his frost art and snowflakes speak for the beauty part. He would just have to do his best to make sure that he was associated with the happier parts of winter.

It really _was _fitting, maybe.

He supposed it had to do.

"Hey, Wind," he said wearily, "Let's go."

The wind picked him up and he flailed about in the air for a moment, wild and lightweight, one with the snowflakes. Then the wind sped him away and he was soon flying over the dark waves of the Atlantic.

Winter was a tricky thing. Winter was homeless, wayward and unpredictable. And so was Jack Frost. And he wasn't quite sure what to make of it. So he laughed at the whole thing. It was a sad laugh that nobody but the wind ever heard.

That night, Canada experienced a heavy yet pleasant snowfall. Soon after that, the ice on a certain small lake in the town of Burgess, USA, thickened. Spiralling frost flowed from the centre to coat the entire lake, and light flakes of snow started drifting down from the sky.

**Author's Note: Oh, Jack, judging by the internet a lot of people besides mini-Toothianas are swooning at the sight of you. Well, he ****_is_**** a pretty adorable kid. And I wrote over 1500 words with barely anything happening? NaNoWriMo has corrupted me! Well, it's done now. I started this because I wanted to write something about winter and somehow I ended up with this. Yay. In case somebody didn't realize, winter is my absolute favourite season. It's so nice and cold and pretty. Jack was a lot of fun to write, too.**

**Thanks for reading this and thanks for those who reviewed! Also, thanks for those who reviewed my other fic,****_ Shelter_****. And... if somebody wants to see more from me, give me a shout. These were very much fun to write. If you absolutely hated these pointless excuses for stories, tell me that too! I like all kinds of feedback, especially the constructive kind.**


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